ASaP
by thursdaywench
Summary: Challenge Fic for STFCOLARS and IbelieveinSam.  Angst, Limp!Sam, Protective!Snarky!Dean. Henrickson doesn't bother trying to catch the Winchesters, just forces them to come to him.
1. Chapter 1

_AN: this is part of a challenge fic for SFTCOL(AR)S, for ibelieveinSam, centering around angst (dun dun dun). hope ya like it girl! This part is betaed by dear Glitz, bless her. _

* * *

"Uh, hey Dean."

Dean couldn't believe he heard the voice on the other end of the phone correctly, "Jo? Did something happen? Are you hurt? Is Ellen?"

"No, no, nothing like that. Well, maybe. I've got a big problem." Her voice sounded distant and hesitant. "I thought maybe you could help, ya know. If you guys weren't busy with _Clara."_

"What? Jo, you get knocked in the head? We don't know any Claras. Well, okay, there was that chick in Anaheim..."

"Dean!" Her voice took a sharp edge that she never used on the Winchesters. "Stop! Really, there's a big problem. Dammit, just come to Des Moines, okay?"

"Alright, alright, no need to get your panties in a twist Kiddo. Tell me what's going on." He gestured across the motel room to Sam. "Jo's got an issue bro, saddle up."

"I can't tell you over the phone." She paused, as if listening to something. Clearing her throat, she added, "When you get here, come downtown. I'll meet you at 9th and Locust, okay?"

Dean was getting more confused by the second. First, Jo calls out of the blue. Now she wants them to hunt for her? "Jo, what the hell? Can ya give us a clue here? This cloak and dagger routine really doesn't become you. Can you at least tell us what we're supposed to hunt?"

"NO!" Her voice now reached a hysterical point, causing her to sound like she was whining. "Dean, I don't know, okay? I just don't know what to do. Please, just come. I don't know what's going on. I just wanna be left alone."

The Winchesters pulled together their few belongings and were heading out the door when Dean paused. Adopting a softer tone, he asked, "Jo, is everything alright? You don't sound fine."

Her sigh was audible over the cell connection. "Just get here, okay. Everything will be over then."

"What? Jo, you're confusing the hell outta me." But all that answered Dean was the dial-tone.

OO OO OO

As the Impala up to the parking garage on 9th street, Sam raised an eyebrow at the structure. "She wanted us to meet her here? Oh, and that's not ominous."

"Tell me about it dude, she was all sorts of cryptic."

"Cryptic? Using the big words now Dean?"

"Shaddup. All I'm saying, Jo is really starting creep me out. She didn't even give me something about the hunt." Dean pulled the car into the garage. "Now where do ya suppose we're supposed to meet the mysterious wonder?"

"Nothing about the hunt? We're supposed to walk in, utterly blind? Dean, I don't like this." Sam ignored the feeling in the back of his mind. It was probably just him being overly suspicious. After all, it was just Jo.

"Nor do I Sammy, but it's Jo. Chick needs saving, apparently." The older Winchester rolled his eyes. "As usual."

Sam couldn't help but cringe, remembering the last time she needed saving. He tried to make light of the situation, "Well, hey, at least it's not me she needs saving from this time."

"Sammy, stop blaming yourself. You know that wasn't you, so stop. Meg did that shit. You know you would never attack Jo like that if it was you."

"Really Dean? Cause my destiny says otherwise."

Dean cracked a hand on the steering wheel. "Dude, stow the destiny crap. You ain't gonna go evil, and that's that. Not if I'm here. Now let's focus on the friggin job."

"Well, let's just get it, whatever _it_ is, done. This whole thing just gives me a bad feeling." Sam rolled his shoulders to pacify the tenseness in between them. He let the topic fall to the wayside. Stubbornness only went so far with Dean, and he didn't like that subject anyway.

"A bad feeling? Like oh damn, I left the stove on? Or crap, here comes a vision?" They drove up the parking garage, finding no sign of Jo. _Probably at the friggin top. Can't anyone meet at the bottom of these things?_

"I dunno Dean. It's probably nothing. Just me being stupid."

"Well, can't help ya on the stupid part. But this shit usually isn't just you'"

"We'll figure it out, I guess..."

They had finally pulled up to the very top of the garage, finding nothing but more parked cars. However, at the very end stood a solitary figure. Jo leaned over the side of structure, watching the world below. Hearing the rumble of the Impala's engine, she jerked, standing upright. She ran her hands nervously through her hair as they parked the car, but made no move to join them.

The Winchesters watched her, unease becoming paramount. She looked like she hadn't slept in days. Her hands shook and her eyes continued to dart to all points of the garage.

"Jo?" Dean got out of the car, ten feet from where she stood. He decided to dodge all pretense. "What the hell is going on? Cause we're here now, chickie, and you have some explaining to catch up on."

Sam likewise had gotten out of the car, but had to walk around the machine to meet their enigmatic informant. He hurried to Dean's side, also swinging his gaze around the garage. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, every nerve in his body screaming to pull Dean back into the Impala and race away, leaving Jo in the dust. However, he simply backed his brother up, keeping a firm grip on the 9mm in his pocket.

"Dean, Sam, I'm so sorry." Tears formed in Jo's eyes. "I di-didn't mean- I couldn't help- I j-just...I'm sorry!"

"Hey, just tell us what's up. C'mon Jo, what do you need help wi-"

The garage suddenly filled with the voices of many men. Shouts echoed across the building as people poured from behind parked cars and several vans screeched onto the level, blocking off the entrance. Uniformed men holding guns all ran at the trio, shouting directives at both each other and their quarry.

"SHIT!" Dean pulled his pistol from the waistband of his jeans and threw an accusatory glare at Jo. "You Knew! You led them here, to us! You son of a bitch!"

Jo backed against the barrier, shaking her head, "No, no, I di-didn't. I'm s-s-sorry Dean! They- they threatened..."

No time to give a damn what they did to Jo, Sam and Dean stood shoulder to shoulder. Their guns, steady in capable hands, flicked between the nearest of the advancing government agents, now twenty feet away. Seeming to wait a command, the uniforms did not open fire. Neither did the Winchesters, as a further murder charge would not help at all.

"Dean! Sam! Welcome to Des Moines!" A familiar voice boomed across the cement. Sam's breath was stolen as dread filled him. Henrickson walked out from behind the now stationary team. They crouched, aiming for the two fugitives. The FBI agent now stood behind that protective line, arms crossed and smug expression visible. "Thank you Joanna. Excellent job, be proud of yourself. Deserving of an Emmy, that performance."

Sam's eyes flicked back to Jo, who now stood hugging herself behind the brothers. She looked anything but proud. He felt a lurch in his gut, a small sense of guilt for getting her involved once again in their messed up lives.

"You bastard, Henrickson! What, you gonna kill us now?" Dean, as usual, was pissed. "Wow, love the government, murdering without second thought."

Henrickson laughed a creeping boom that didn't help to allay their overwrought bodies. "Now Dean, how do you figure that? These men?" He gestured at the men in front of him. "Nah, I just figured you boys needed some convincing. See, I let you two slip through before. Try to get past 20 armed soldiers. I'd love to see you try."

But as Sam and Dean looked around the now packed floor and looked at each other. A plan formed. Nothing was barring the exit ramp. The vans had only blocked the entrance way. The garage had one way up, and another way down. Not requiring any spoken plan, the brothers began backing towards the car.

An odd gleam appeared in the agent's eyes as he watched them. Instead of calling for his men to advance on Sam and Dean, however, he simply raised his own handgun. Five feet from the Impala, they broke formation and raced for the car.

A gun went off and Sam felt a piercing sting on his left calf. "Argh!" He stumbled as sizzling pain erupted from the point where he was hit, but managed to keep going. He wrenched open the passenger door, and flung himself into the cool interior.

"Sam! You okay?" Dean jammed the key in the ignition and threw his baby into reverse, tires squealing. He looked at his sprawled brother.

Sam's eyes were screwed tight against the pain. "I got hit."

As they raced for the exit, a jubilant voice shouted after them, "I'll be expecting your phone call Dean!"


	2. Chapter 2

_AN: hokay, so this part is unbetaed, cause it's nearly 5am and Glitz likes sleep. but here it is anyway! more sometime after i've had sleep! thanks for all the kind reviews and i'm loving all the story alerts!_

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As the Impala tore down the exit ramp, Dean could barely focus on the road ahead. Between looking in the rearview mirror for any government vehicles that may be following them, and making sure Sam wasn't about to die, Dean didn't have enough eyes. Sam looked terrible. Sweat dripped down his face and he sprawled, almost to the floor of the car. With his eyes closed, the only way Dean could tell that Sam wasn't passed out was by his labored breathing.

"Sammy, you gotta stay with me here. Just wait 'til we get to the hospital, okay?"

"No Dean." Sam cracked open his eyes, and Dean could see they were slightly unfocused. "No hospitals, they'll be watching for us. They'll catch us. Besides, it's probably just a sedative. Just get me to bed, it'll...wear off...in a few...hours."

"Fine, we'll go to the motel. But you gotta say with me man." Dean forgot their adversary for a moment as his brother struggled to keep himself in the waking world. But as he doubled checked in the mirror, Dean noticed that not one vehicle seemed to be in pursuit of the muscle car. Why wasn't anyone on their tail? And why _was_ it just a tranquilizer? If Henrickson didn't want them dead, only wanted them down, why didn't the entire firing squad have sedatives to knock them out? Judging by Sam's reaction, it was no mere tranquilizer.

As his eyes closed once again, Sam reached a shaking hand down to his left leg. Where the pain centered, it felt like roiling black tar was boiling through his system. He gasped as his fingers brushed the tip of something embedded in his calf. "Dammit..."

"Sam? Dude, don't go doing anything stupid, okay? We'll look at it in the hotel." Dean silently cursed the distance between downtown and their motel. The outskirts of town seemed like a good idea before. He laughed hollowly, "Hey Sam, funny how we picked the motel to stay under the radar."

A ghost of grin flitted across Sam's face, followed closely by a grimace and a jerk as he yanked the dart out of his leg. "Geez..."

As his brother's pallor became even whiter, Dean urged on his baby, not really caring how many speed limits he broke. He noticed Sam's breathing became even and his expression cleared. He had passed out. "Just hold on Sammy."

The engine roared as Dean pulled into their motel, swinging down to the furthest room. He jerked the shifter into park, and took a deep breath. He reached over and shook Sam. "Hey, we're here. Can ya walk?"

"ugh, yeah...i think so." Using his hands and right leg, Sam shifted his body around and swung his legs out of the car. He hissed in pain as his leg hit the pavement, pausing only slightly before he heaved himself up. Holding onto the car for balance, Sam took a few tentative steps forward. Dean raced around to the passenger's side to provide backup in case Sam needed assistance.

"Dude...I got it...just..damn!" Sam swayed on the spot and began to fall to the pavement.

"Hey!" Dean threw an arm around Sam's back, while also ducking beneath his brother's arm. He half dragged, half carried Sam to their door. By the time Sam collapsed on the bed, his shirt was drenched with sweat and his breathing labored again. He groaned as Dean lifted his boots onto the bed, eyes screwed up against the pain.

"Alright, we gotta see what's under the hood, kay Sammy?" Dean reached for the blade in his back pocket. "I'm gonna cut your pants, sorry dude."

Without further hesitation, the older Winchester brother sliced cleanly from knee to hem, and ripped the fabric to expose Sam's lower leg. A small dart clattered to the floor, its damage done. They shared a gasp, though for different motives. The jerk on Sam's leg shot stinging pain to his nerve endings, while Dean's intake of breath was for the state of Sam's calf. It was swollen to nearly twice it's usual size, with bolts of an angry red covering the entirety of it.

"Jesus Sam, what did he get you with, the freaking bastard." Dean took care to not make any sudden movements as he rotated his brother's leg, searching for the source of the infection. Sam clutched at the comforter as the agony redoubled. "Easy, easy. Just gotta see where they got ya. Can you flip over so I don't have to play Stretch Armstrong with ya?"

Sam snorted weakly and pushed off with his left arm, dragging his sore body over. He bunched a pillow beneath his head, burying into its cool softness.

"God-dammit." Dean was no physician, but this looked bad. About midway down, a round raised ring of flesh surrounded a minute puncture wound. The angry red turned a deep purple at the epicenter. Dean ran a careful finger around the entry point. Sam's answering groan told him it was a sensitive as it looked. "Dammit Sam, you need a hospital. He must've gotten you with some sort of poison."

Sam's words were barely distinguishable due to his head buried in the pillow, "No. Hospitals."

"Sam! C'mon! It's not worth your life! You could die, we don't know what the hell this is! How long is it gonna take to get through your system? Minutes? Hours? Days? You just gonna be in pain 'til it takes you? No Sammy, not gonna happen." Dean made to help Sam back up, to get him to the hospital.

Grunting, Sam swatted his brother's hand away. He pushed up on shaking arms, to shift so he could talk to Dean. "We are not going to the hospital. That's final Dean. Don't make me go there. They'll find us, then they'll take you away to jail, and I'll be chained to a hospital bed, waiting to be booked off as soon as I heal."

Dean couldn't say no to Sam, not when he looked at him with such a sorrow. "Alright, but we gotta figure this out. I didn't make a deal just so you could get off-ed by friggin' Henrickson."

Sam grinned, then groaned as a wave of sizzling anguish passed through his body. "Alright, we gotta work fast. Call up Bobby, Missouri, anyone with some know-how on this kinda stuff. Hand me the laptop, I'll see what I can find about poisons used by the government, take a look at my symptoms."

OO OO OO

Two hours later, and they were no further in the research than before. Dean's calls to their contacts had everyone on the search, but no one knew off-hand what was ailing Sam. The laptop was a venture in failure, especially when it's conductor was only half-conscious and slipping further into the poison's bite.

"Sam, why don't you try and get some sleep? Maybe rest will stop the poison for a bit." Dean rubbed at his own tired eyes. They had driven straight here 6 hours to find Jo, and still hadn't any respite.

"No Dean, it won't work that way. I'm nearly into the site...just gimme...one minute." Sam was close to four inches away from the screen, squinting as he worked. "Almost have it."

"Dude, you need glasses? You're gonna burn something important if you get that close."

"Nah, it's my eyes. They're fuzzy. Probably just exhausted. There! Got it!" Sam squinted harder and began reading the page. "Argh, this must really getting to me. Everything is so hard to see..."

"Sam?" Dean moved to grip his brother's shoulder. "C'mon man, what's going on now?"

Sam looked up and gasped, horror flashing across his face. "Dean! I can't see! Oh god, I've- I've gone blind!"

Dean stooped and grabbed Sam's face between his hands. "What? Sammy, can you see me at all?" He searched hazel eyes for any problems, any signs of disturbance. None showed, his brother's eyes looked clear and frightened, leaving Dean perplexed.

"I can see you, but not all of you. Everything is a big fuzzy blur! Dean! I'm going blind!" Panic was evident in his voice, heightened, no doubt, by the slowness of research and forthcoming information.

"Hey, just calm down. You're not helping yourself by freaking out. It's probably just an effect of the poison." Dean sat back, releasing Sam so they both slumped onto their prospective beds. He tried to calm himself as well as the younger Winchester. "I'll call everyone, let them know the new symptom. Maybe it'll help. In the meantime, you sleep. No, no arguing," He put out a hand as Sam began to protest. "You need rest, this stress probably isn't helping. I'll call everyone."

"Dean-"

"No! You don't sleep, I'll find the nearest sleeping pill and shove it down your throat. Now lie back. I'll wake you as soon as we know more."

Grumbling, Sam complied. He reasoned with himself that perhaps Dean would catch some sleep while he himself did. Besides, sleeping pills? Not fun.

Dean quietly closed the door behind him, taking his cell outside. He quickly dialed a number, hoping the person on the other end would connect him to the right answer.

"Hello Dean." Henrickson's snide voice came over the line. Dean was forcibly reminded of the time they first talked, when Henrickson insulted John. "I was expecting your call. Nice timing, just the right amount of desperation. So, how's Sammy today?"

"What do you want, you sonovabitch?" Dean's voice became nearly a growl. "How do I fix him?"

Laughter sounded clear, "You don't Dean. I fix him and in return, the two of you come quietly. No one need die, especially not my men. Not even Sammy."

"Don't call him that. What did you put in Sam?"

"Oh, just a little bit of Asp's venom. No worries. Has he lost eyesight yet? He should be paralyzed in, oh, 6 hours. Dead in about 10. What's it gonna be Dean? Your brother's life, or your freedom?"

"You bastard!" Dean slammed a fist into the support column in front of their motel room. "Why can't you just leave us alone? I didn't kill anyone! And Sam hasn't done anything wrong!"

"Oh really? Not what eyewitnesses say. And plus all that other good stuff. Grave digging? You guys are some sick bastards."

Letting loose a cry of rage, Dean threw the phone, watching with a sick pleasure as it broke upon the pavement. He wished Henrickson was there, standing with Dean, just so he could be the only to beat the holy crap out of him. "Dammit!"

* * *

_teehee. angry!Dean is fun. and no Lil, not enough whuppage yet ;)_


	3. Chapter 3

_AN: shwoa. I should always post at 5am! thanks for all the glorious reviews and story alerts! It's awesome the response, and don't worry kids, Henrickson will get his due. as for J, i'll set her up with a good shrink. ;)_

_this part is again unbetaed, cause Glitz has a life, and i have a deadline (c:  
_

_oh, and the forgotten disclaimer: I don't own anything...booo hooo hooo._

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"Dammit, dammit, dammit." In all, Dean's day was not going very well. While Sam slept, he, Dean, decided to take the situation into his own hands. He figured Henrickson would spot his car, so Dean decided to borrow a mustang. If he was going to steal a car, might as well do it in style. But as he lounged in the buttery leather, it didn't comfort him. Dean felt terrible. With his fit of rage, his cell phone was now broken, and he had to leave Sam with no way to contact him. Sure, it was only a few hours, but when Sam's life hung in the balance, that could be a huge damage. Dean couldn't just sit around and wait for the venom to work through Sam's system, and he sure as hell wasn't giving in to Henrickson.

He had used Sam's phone to call all their contacts, all of whom said the same thing. Any hospital or clinic would have the antidote. Grinding his teeth in frustration, Dean reminded them that with the FBI, and no doubt the Des Moines Police, hot on their tail, such help would be more of a hindrance. It was bad enough that they had to stay in that motel. More than anything, they should be leaving Iowa in the dust. Henrickson seemed to know all about the Winchesters and how they operated. So it followed, logically, that he would know where they would be staying. Sam's condition, however, made this impossible, and Dean settled for hiding the Impala around the back of the Blue Goose Motel. _Geez, with a name like that, they might just look it over cause we're not that lame._

So, risking detection, Dean was scouting out all of the hospitals, clinics, and even doctor's offices to find the antidote. But as he passed each one, Dean's gut clenched harder and harder. Each source of medical help was being closely watched by either a plainclothes officer, a stiff-backed FBI agent, or a unmarked, yet distinctly conspicuous government vehicle. _"_Dammit. Henrickson, I'm gonna tear you a new one."

Dean had no choice but to return to Sam. Besides, he knew that the kid would get anxious if he woke to an empty room. As he swung into the parking lot and returned the car to its original space, Dean hoped that his brother was still asleep. A google search told him that Asp poisoning was a painful and drawn-out experience. If not treated, the bite was fatal, but not before the affected limb became swollen and had a very good chance of developing gangrene. The entire body begins to shut down, blood flow either stopping, or rushing through so fast, it gave the bitten party a heart attack. Paralysis, as Henrickson so mockingly said, would set in, leaving Sam helpless to stop the poison from overtaking his body. After reading this, Dean nearly chucked the computer out of the window, but satisfied himself with stealing a car.

Now, as Dean opened the door to their room, he was alarmed to find Sam's bed empty. "Sammy?"

"Dean!" A faint reply came from somewhere in the room, laced with panic, "I can't move!"

"Shit, Sam, where are you?" Dean threw the keys, not caring what they hit. He quickly scanned the room and headed for the bathroom, figuring that is the only place Sam could be. But the bathroom was empty, door open wide. "SAM?"

"Here!" His brother's weak reply came from between the wall and the bed. "I don't know what happened! I just c-can't move!"

Sam lay sprawled, half covered in the comforter from his bed. Wide eyes stared up at Dean, but he made no movement to untangle his long limbs from the covers.

"Shit." Dean said again, guilt flooding him. He didn't get back in time from his search. "Oh god, I'm sorry Sam. I thought I had another hour until-"

Suspicion flitted across Sam's eyes, before fear clouded them over again. "What do you mean, 'until'? How did you know this would happen?"

Dean yanked at the fabric entwining his brother, throwing it back onto the bed. "C'mon big guy, let's get you back in bed."

"Dean." Sam could only allow himself to be dragged back to the bed, his muscles under the control of the toxin. "Dean, don't avoid the subject. Do you know what Henrickson did to me?"

Heaving a sigh as he arranged Sam's limbs, Dean knew that he would have to explain. "I called him."

"What? Dean, we should be lying low! Why are you playing right into his hands?"

"Because, dammit, you could die! I'm not gonna let you die, again, when there's a chance! And dude, have a little faith, okay? I told the bastard where to shove it."

A flicker of amusement passed in Sam's eyes, "Well, what did he put in me?"

"It's Asp venom. A snake, _vipera aspis."_

"Dude, if I wasn't paralyzed, my eyebrow would be so high. Scientific name?"

"Hey, gimme some credit. Wikipedia is my new best friend." Dean gave his signature grin, determined to keep the mood happy.

"Then we're screwed. You can only get the antidote through poison control. Damn, I should've recognized the signs."

"Kinda difficult when you're passing out all over the place kiddo."

"Dean, be serious. Don't sugarcoat it, alright? I know what the venom does. I'm going to loose my leg if we don't get it soon enough, and if we don't get it all, shortly after, I'll die."

"You and you're useless information are a pain in my ass. C'mon Sam, there'll be a way. I've got a plan, and Missouri said she'd call back, that she has something for you that might work."

"A plan, Dean? Right, cause those always work so well. We don't have time to get to Missouri! With Henrickson on our tail, we'll be luck to get through her door before I die and he arrests you."

"Oh ye of little faith." Dean's smirk told Sam that he had taken that as a challenge. "We'll get around Henrickson. And time? C'mon man, breaking speed limits is one of my talents."

"Alright. If Missouri calls in the next hour, we'll go with your 'plan'. If not..."

"Don't even say the 'if not'. Don't you dare. She'll call." They both started as Sam's phone jangled in Dean's pocket. "See, what did I tell you?...Hey Missouri, whaddya got for us?"

* * *

_the next part should be up around midnightish, EST? i'm not exactly sure, hopefully it'll be up earlier_


	4. Chapter 4

_AN: woot, finished before midnight! now i can sleep! have fun everyone, and thank you, thank you, thank you for the kind reviews!_

_this section is again unbetaed because of the deadline._

* * *

"Man, this sucks." Sam was in passenger seat. Well, sort of. Due to his lack of muscular strength, his appendages just went with the motion of the car. "I've got an itch on my nose, and can't scratch."

Dean chuckled, "Here, ya quadriplegic." He leaned over and bopped Sam on the nose.

"Gee, thanks."

"Glad to see your sarcasm hasn't lost its luster Sammy." He didn't say that everything else wasn't working. When Dean had bundled his brother into the car, he asked if Sam wanted front seat, or to sprawl in the back. Sam insisted on the front so he could see where they were going. This, of course, was kind of pointless as Sam's vision was still fuzzy at best. And even if he could see, the venom still sent waves of pain through Sam's nervous system. Judging by Henrickson's timetable, the venom had about 5 hours to work its fateful magic. But as their information provided, it was a case by case basis on how fast the venom worked.

They were back in the Impala, speeding along the interstate back to Lawrence and to Missouri. As per Dean, speed limits were easily overlooked, and if Henrickson had been watching, he would've added a multitude of traffic violations to the rap sheet. Missouri had said something about connections at the local poison control center, so their chances of getting Sam the actual antidote were high. Also, they had not seen any signs of government, FBI, or police force, so Sam and Dean felt a certain amount of elation.

"So how do you think Jo got screwed up in this?" Even on his deathbed, Sam's questions continued.

"I dunno." Dean stared hard at the road in front of the car, "Frankly, I don't give a shit. She sold us out."

"Well, I do kinda deserve it. I did some pretty terrible crap when Meg was possessing me."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Dude! How many times do I have to tell you, there was no way you could've stopped that."

Silence descended on the Impala as both Winchesters were left their thoughts on Jo. Sam was wracked with guilt, thinking that her treachery was simply her way of getting back at him for what he did. Dean was thinking over the first time she called him, less than 36 hours ago. Something wasn't quite right, but he couldn't remember just what.

"Son of a Bitch!" Dean thumped the wheel, "She didn't sell us out Sam, she tried to warn me!"

"What?"

"In the call, she said 'Clara'. We don't know anyone by that name. Guess that was her way of telling me not to come. Piss poor way, but geez, Henrickson was probably listening."

"Wow Dean, you _are_ wise. Couldn't you tell something was up when she started naming random people we don't know?"

"Ya know, if your supposed to be paralyzed, how come your mouth still works?"

"Shaddup." Sam groaned as another spasm of pain echoed through his system. "I got enough issues without having to listen to your monologues, thanks."

"Hey, I could give ol' Shakespeare a run for his money. Monologues are a hidden talent."

OOOOOO

Four and a half hours later found Dean on Missouri's doorstep. He pounded on the door and hurried back to the street to drag Sam to the house.

"Boy, you had better not be serious about dragging that poor boy all the way up here." Missouri's soft voice nevertheless carried with an authority. "Here, take this wheelchair. It'll save everyone."

"Hey Missouri. How've ya been?" Dean automatically kept himself in check around the stout psychic. He took the chair from her. "Thanks."

"Hmm, better than you two, it seems." She toddled after him down to the car and Sam. She gasped at the prone form in the passenger seat. "Oh, Sam dear."

Sam had lost consciousness about an hour previous, fever hiking back up to dangerous temperatures. Though he had no movement, his body began a fine shivering. His leg was beginning to turn a sickening shade of deep maroon, nearly black. The entry wound was completely black, the skin beginning to flake off.

"Oh dear. We need to get him in the house, quickly! C'mon Dean, don't just gawk, grab him under the arms. Move it!"

Dean bit back the retort and did what he was told. As he lifted his brother's upper half, Missouri helped guide Sam's feet out of the car. Head lolling on Dean's shoulder, Sam barely had breath. Fear stabbed at Dean, forcing him to wonder if they were too late.

Sirens wailed in the distance, coming closer with each passing second. Already on edge, Dean swore. "Crap. They're coming Missouri. We gotta work quick, he's barely holding on."

"Hush child, we'll get Sam squared away. I have the injection in the kitchen. And don't you worry about those Coppers. You think I'm just here to spout out knowledge? Get him inside, I'll take care of things out here. Give me your keys."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "You drive my car? Oh, alright, fine. But be careful, she's a handful."

"Boy, Move it!" She grabbed the keys from his extended hand and hurried to the drivers side. As Dean wheeled Sam into the house, he watched as she guided the car gracefully around the corner, out of sight.

He found the syringe, as promised, on the kitchen counter. Wasting no precious time, he jammed it into Sam's leg. His brother jerked with the movement, uttering a short cry before falling back into the oblivion.

"C'mon Sammy. Don't do this again. Don't leave me again." He grabbed Sam's limp hand in his own, but let it go quickly as Missouri bustled back in.

"Now you need to appreciate the saying of quiet as the grave, boy. I have it on good authority that they don't have a warrent, but you can't give them cause for searching by useless chatter." She ran hand over Sam's head, "Did he get it in time?"

"I-I think so. He hasn't stopped breathing, so that's good, right?"

"Yes, excellent. Frank over at the clinic said it would take about 10 minutes to see any improvement, about a day to get rid of the toxin fully."

"What? We don't-"

A knock at the door interrupted Dean's complaint. "Dean Winchester, we know you are in there. Come out, and no one need get hurt."

Dean grumbled, but refrained from saying anything. Missouri was looking daggers at him as she moved towards the front hall.

"Now excuse, Agent-"

"Henrickson. Now where's-"

"Yes, Mr. Henrickson. What in the Lord's name are you doing, banging on my door and hollering for men?" Dean grinned at Missouri's stout words, glad they were used on someone else.

"Ma'am, we have reason to suspect that you have some dangerous criminals in your house. The clinic reported that you purchased a dosage of the cure for Asp venom. Now what do you need that for?"

"Son, you take that tone with me one more time, I'll whack you with my spoon. Now, let's figure a few things out."

"Lady, I don't care if you're Mother Teresa. I'm getting the Winchesters, and I don't give a damn how rude I sound doing it."

"Now see here _Agent._ I will not have you standing there, disrespecting me with your unfounded accusations and insults. You hold your tongue, or I shall have you up on harassment faster than you can beg for your mother." Dean silently raised a fist in the air, urging her on. "Now show me a warrant, and i shall show you my house."

"I don't need a warrant when I know they're in there. Step away from the door now."

"No."

Dean could practically feel the battle of fiery wills coming from the front hallway, worried that Henrickson might do something to Missouri. However, the next word surprised him utterly.

"Fine. Mrs. Mosley, you are quite lucky that nothing came up on your record. Have a good day." The dripping sarcasm was evident, but Missouri came out the victor. A second later, the door shut and she walked back to the kitchen and the boys.

"Missouri, you are awesome! Thanks." Dean couldn't suppress the brilliant grin at her small victory.

She returned the smile. "He was rude anyway. I can't abide rudeness. Now lets have some tea. You can leave when I say it's clear. He's lurking around outside, waiting for you to go out the back. He'll come back tomorrow with a warrant, but you'll be long gone."

"Thanks again, you really hit a homer for us."

"No problem, I just wish you would visit when someone's life wasn't at stake." She looked over Sam, who hadn't moved since the injection. Though stationary, they could see that his pallor was better, and the swelling had gone down in Sam's leg.

Her eyes met Dean's. "Yes, he'll be alright. Will you?"

"Uh, sure. Yeah." Though he couldn't avoid her power, Dean avoided her eyes.

"No, you're not. But you will be. Now sit, and tell me what's been happening. I'd imagine sharing will help."

And as Sam began to heal, so too did Dean, in his own way. He knew Missouri could find it all out in his head, but really, telling her would be easier. She listened as he relayed the events of Wyoming. Missouri needn't have said anything, so she didn't. Sam awoke sometime later, and too relayed the past events. And when the coast was clear, she ushered the brothers out the back door, playing the part of a supporter excellently.

As she stood in the door, waving, they looked back and waved also, ghosts of grins flickering across troubled features.

"You will be fine." She knew in her heart, and in her power, that the Winchesters would make it through.

* * *

_EL FIN!!! Thanks Devan for the awesome prompt! Sorry if it got a little Deancentric, forgive me?_


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